Love is All That Matters
by TrackADELE
Summary: ON HOLD. Poor watchman's beautiful daughter, Anastasia Steele, who's often underestimated by people due to her financial status becomes friends with an elite group of people & falls in love with the most famous & rich boy, Christian Grey; Who's unaware of her real identity. For how long can she pretend to be someone she is not? Will Christian Grey accept her with all her lies? HEA
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**

**Yo!**

**I apologise for my absence on this website for such a long time. But I am back with a piece of exciting news! A new chapter _and _a new story! Hope you like it.**

**Also, to all those who were with me on the journey of my other story on FanFiction, 'Keeping you, I let it go', you all don't have to worry about absolutely anything. I will be uploading its chapter real soon this time and I am really very sorry for neglecting it for such a long time.**

* * *

**NOTE: Elena has not seduced/abused Christian in this story. Christian doesn't have a horrifying but a painful past. Elena, however, is a sexual predator but doesn't have an eye for Christian, though, she still goes on causing distress in Ana's life. She's not a good woman but I am not going to demonize her like in every other fan fiction.**

**Also, Gia here is ambitious but loyal. She'd die for the people she considers her friend but try not to be her enemy…**

* * *

I applied the red lipstick on my full lips and smiled. How vibrant and graceful it looked on me. The dressing table in front of me was crowded with bottles of expensive French perfumes and makeup products. My hand reached out to pick the most attractive perfume bottle that looked less like a bottle and more like a huge diamond stone. I sprinkled some on my neck. Getting up and taking a last look at myself in the mirror- a huge grin on my face- I opened the cupboard to all the expensive dresses in front of me. I took the red plum dress out, my all-time favourite and kept it over me, admiring myself in the mirror.

"If you're not trying on these perfumes, Shall I clean the table?"

I turned to look at her and nodded my head, "Clean this and do the laundry, too."

"Sure. I have a lot of work," She sighed, "Clean the dishes, mop the whole house and then I have to go to the other house for work, too."

I frowned at her, "Who told you to work so hard? You would also have to collect the garbage of the building after cleaning all the houses, huh?"

She rolled her eyes, "Perks of being a janitor." She muttered under her breath, picking up a perfume bottle and wiping it with the cloth.

"Don't do that!" I shouted, panicked, "It's imported and very expensive. It will break." I sprinted up, snatching the bottle from her hand.

"Sorry." She replied, her eyes wide by my sudden reaction as she dropped the cloth from her hand, "I'll clean the living room then." She muttered, leaving the room.

"Wait, Mom! I'll help you, too!" I called after her, picking up the cloth and running behind her.

So, yes. I wasn't the lucky one to have all these luxuries with me and I'd be lying if I said that I never desired one.

My father was a doorman, my brother- a mechanic and my mother- a janitor. We all lived in Éclair, an upper-class neighbourhood which was stuffed with all these rich people whose families were smaller than their cars and they cared for their dogs more than their own children. We lived in the basement, a house with three small rooms and two smaller windows.

I wiped the centre table while my mother wiped the wooden floor with a mop.

"When will the owners return?" She asked suddenly,

"Mr and Mrs Robinson will come back next month after the summer break," I replied,

"What about their daughter?"

"We both have our results out tomorrow. Leila should be returning on time," I replied, a chill running through my body at the name of results, "I am so scared about tomorrow." I muttered under my breath, "I'll go home and make dinner after helping you here."

A hand slid through my own, stopping me from cleaning the table. I looked up to find my mother smiling at me. I frowned, "What, mom?"

She kept the cloth aside and brought my hand to her lips, giving it a slight peck, "Your hands aren't meant for this, my dear. They are meant for greater things."

I smiled, shyly, "I was just helping my mother."

She smiled back, her hand leaving my hand and caressing my cheek. She gazed at me and all of a sudden her eyes were serious, her smile fading.

"A janitor's daughter won't be a janitor," A single tear fell off her eyes and she turned away from me, picking up the mop and resuming her work, "Go home and study. Your father is cleaning the stairs. Finish your studies until he comes back home." She said, firmly.

Apparently, there was nothing I had to study. I had already finished them and given the entrance test of this private university we were only meant to _dream. _And the result was tomorrow. If I passed it, I would get a full scholarship but if I failed, I would be sent off to the village to help my relatives on their farms and my life would be over. No pressure.

So, that was the reason for my mom being so emotional even though she tried her best not to showcase it. It was _her_ dream more than_ mine _to see me-shoulder to shoulder with all these upper-class people who looked down upon us. Nobody else, not even my father believed in me and my potential to rise up above the mountains. It was just my mother who had impeccable and irrevocable trust in me. My father wasn't wrong. He was just afraid of me dreaming a dream, I could only dream about. He was afraid if that dream shattered, his daughter shatters with the dream, too. He was afraid to dream. Afraid for us. Me and my twin brother.

"Go!" She shouted.

I cringed, "Going, mom!" I retorted, my voice, irritated.

* * *

"Carla, the food is so delicious. God bless you." My father said, stuffing the meatball in his mouth.

My mother smiled proudly at me, "Ana made it." I grinned.

Dad was clearly surprised, "Ana, honey, God bless you." He smiled a tight smile.

"Thanks, Dad." I muttered, putting a mouthful of spaghetti in my mouth when my eyes landed on Ethan, "Jesus, Ethan! At least, wash your hands before you sit on the table." I complained looking at his hands covered in black spots which seemed like grease.

He narrowed his eyes at me, "Oh, look at that. Is this bothering you, Ms Steele," he snapped, "What you call dirt is what I make money from. She calls it dirt," he made a face, "It's motor oil. It cannot be removed."

I clenched my jaw. Why did he always have to be so dramatic and rude with everything? "You always want to pick a fight, don't you? You break your bread with your hands, otherwise, why would I care about the dirt in your hands?" I muttered in disgust.

"Look at her," he accused, again, "She still calls it dirt."

I opened my mouth.

"Shut up, you two." My mother snapped,

"Lord, look at them. Nobody can tell if you both are twins or enemies." My dad huffed and automatically everybody went quite. That was the rule. When dad said something, we all were meant to keep our mouths shut even if we did not agree or else the consequences were never good. Call it coming from a patriarchal society and the male-dominant culture back in our village.

Ethan stared at me, his eyes narrowed and accusation still evident in his eyes. I stared right back.

"God, Carla, my back is paining from cleaning all these stairs. Would you apply some oil on it? I can't eat anymore." My dad stretched and winced.

"Sure, sure. Go and lay down. I'll be right there."

"Your results will be out soon, huh?" Ethan asked the sarcasm in his voice was clear.

"Why do you care?" I hissed,

"She still dreams as if it will all come true," he snorted, "Mom, you shouldn't have let her watch Cinderella when she was a kid." He muttered, a laugh escaping his mouth. My hand balled into a fist under the table but I wasn't letting him push the right buttons.

"Enough, Ethan. Don't be afraid to dream, my child." Mom stared at him which clearly left him agitated.

The sound of the engine revived as the familiar sound of the tires grew louder, coming closer and stopped. The Robinsons were back. I sprinted up from the table, collecting the dishes and putting them in the sink. I rushed outside the house to see Leila stepping out of the car. I could sense my family behind me who came to welcome the owners of door number ten.

"Leila!" I exclaimed, literally running towards her. It had been almost three months since I had seen her.

"Hey, Ana!" She retorted and grabbed me in a quick hug. She was the same height as me and she wore a white T-shirt and black pyjama. She was a natural brunette like me but she had changed her hair colour to red last summer.

"How was Paris?" I asked,

"Good." She sighed,

"Why are you upset?" I asked, frowning

"My dad's still in Paris for work," She said, glumly, "I had to return because the results would be out tomorrow."

Before I could speak, Mrs Robinson stepped out of the car, her face all make up packed as she wore a red plum dress and black pencil heels. _How did she carry her weight on those needles? _Mrs Robinson was curvaceous and a blonde. I, sometimes, did admire how sensationally she carried herself.

"Welcome. Hope you had a nice trip." My mother muttered from the behind. She gave her a slight nod and as much as I wanted to deny it, a _fake_ smile, too.

I moved forward to hug Mrs Robinson but she held her hand up, "Stop." She said, her face panic-stricken, she recovered her stance and added, "I'm sorry. Actually, I am a little sick. I don't want you to catch the flu, dear."

I nodded.

"Welcome, everybody." A voice interrupted us. It was Joey, the daughter of a famous fashion designer. She wore clothes only she could carry with her healthy figure. Door number 8.

She walked over to Leila and gave her a quick hug and then turned to Mrs Robinson. I was about to warn her about the cold, Mrs Robinson had caught, when she kissed her on both the cheeks to which Mrs Robinson happily retorted, squeezing her in a tight hug, too. Leila looked at me, apologetically. I gave her a small smile.

_Of course, she didn't even want to touch a doorman's daughter._

"See you, everybody." Joey left with that.

"Oh, Ana? Would you come up with us?" Leila asked,

"Carla?" Mrs Robinson interrupted, "Would you help us unpack?" Leila rolled her eyes at me and mouthed 'She can't do anything by herself'. I stifled a laugh.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Robinson but I'll be up at door number eight."

She sighed, "Perhaps, Ana can?"

"Sure-

"No, she's busy." Mom interrupted me before I could respond.

"Never mind." She pursed her lips.

"Aunt Carla? Can she please come up with me? I have a lot to tell her about Paris! So much happened." Leila pleaded.

I turned to her, too, my eyes pleading for permission. She nodded and we both ran to their apartment.

Apparantly, there was a lot of stuff about Paris she had to tell and I was the least interested though, I sat with her giving all the right reactions.

"Are you afraid of the results tomorrow?" Leila asked me as we sat in front of each other, our legs crossed, on the bed.

"Sort of."

"Oh!" Her face lit up suddenly, "where are the magazines that came when we were away?"

I shook my head at her. I hated her involvement in the nightlife of our country which always had something to do with the pictures and articles on the stupid magazines. If she wanted to happily waste her time, I could do nothing.

"Mom kept it in your cupboard." I muttered, bring her the bunch of magazines, "Are you going to read all these?"

She grinned, snatching a magazine from me and turning the pages rapidly and then she stopped.

Did I forget to mention about her obsession with the prince of nightlife? Of course, I did. I didn't remember his name but he always had a large place booked for articles about him in these magazines. The main reason why Leila read anything at all. She was collecting his pictures for her clipboard which was utter bullshit to me. Pardon my language.

"Christian Grey." She muttered with a dramatic sigh and jerked her chin at me, "Look, he is on them again. Would you handover me that scissor?"

I passed her the pair from her study table, "Why are you so interested in him?"

She looked at me, wide-eyed as if questioning my sanity, "He is the prince of nightlife. Look at him. He's so handsome. Look at that jawline." She muttered, her eyes boring into the magazine once again.

"Continue with your craftwork." I muttered, "I am leaving."

She nodded, absentmindedly.

* * *

The whole night was restless. I was back in my room which barely had enough space. There was just a single bed, three feet rack for my clothes, a small rectangular window and a rusted mirror which once belonged to Leila. When it caught rust, her mother sent the mirror down to us, for me. Half of my clothes belonged to Leila, too.

My mind wandered back to the results tomorrow. If my whole life wasn't dependent on it, I might have been able to take a good night's sleep. However, for me, it was impossible.

I could hear the low murmurs of the television outside and the chats of my parents. My dad was talking about his beloved village and my mother, as usual, would be irritated with that. I smiled. She was the one to convince dad to come here to the city because she didn't want her children to live the life she lived.

The conversation's tone took a sudden turn and I strained myself to hear them,

"Ana was quiet all evening. Is she okay?" It was dad.

"Hmm-mm. She must be worried about her results." Mom replied in a distracted tone. She was probably too indulged in TV.

"She probably fought with Ethan again." Dad sighed.

"God, Frank, don't worry. They're siblings. They love each other."

"This university, it took our peace away. This is what happens when the boy is barely able to pass the elementary school and the daughter goes to a university."

My breath hitched.

"Hold it right there, Frank," My mother hissed, "What you're trying to say is that if the boy isn't capable to graduate, our daughter shouldn't, too?"

"It just shouldn't destroy our peace." Dad defended,

"Then you should control your son's ego and not cut my daughter's wings." My mother snapped. Tears pooled my eyes.

"Jesus, Carla. Who said about cutting her wings? It's just that one shouldn't fly so high that it wounds her when she falls down."

"That's what you did with my children, Frank. You made them scared to dream. You have killed my son's already. I wouldn't let you do that to my daughter. She will fly higher than everybody in this world."

I wanted to run to her and pull her into a hug and sob. The way she defended me just made me more scared about letting her down. As she went on defending me, the luxury of making mistakes was decreasing.

* * *

"Jesus Christ, stay with my daughter. Take care of her" My mother chanted as she paced restlessly back and forth while I sat on the couch in the living room with my head in my hands. She was getting on my nerves now. The results were already out and we were waiting for Leila to wake up and call me up to check the results on her laptop.

"Mom, please sit down."

"When will this girl wake up?" She shouted,

"Mom! Sit down! She'll be up any minute. Would you stop freaking _me _out?"

She nodded frantically. I sighed. _So much for peace in this house._

"Ana? I'm up. You can come over." Leila's voice came from the intercom and I sprinted up, my breath turning into laboured pants.

"It's time." My mother muttered, pulling me into a quick hug, "All the best, sweetie."

"Thank you. I am going." I opened the door to leave,

"Bless you, my child." My father called as he closed the bathroom door.

"Thanks, Dad," I called back.

"Wait, Ana," Ethan shouted,

I skidded to a halt, "Now, what?" I huffed,

He came running towards me and pulled me into a tight hug, "All the best, Annie." He smiled down at me.

I nodded, smiling, "Thanks, Eyth."

Leila opened the door and ushered me in, her finger on her lips shushing me to keep quiet and whispered, "Madam is still taking her beauty sleep"

We got into her room and I couldn't help but squeal. She laughed, "You are so excited for the results."

I pouted, "You are, too."

"No, not at all." She held her hands up, "I wish they would have postponed."

I rolled my eyes, "We _both _will pass."

"Doesn't matter," She shrugged, "My stepmother will take all the credit, anyway."

"You know, you're way too hard on Mrs Robinson."

"I don't care, Ana."

"Well, shall we?" I jumped up and down, clapping my hands like a schoolgirl.

Leila grinned at me, holding my shoulders to stop me from jumping, "Since you are so excited, let's look at your result first."

I nodded.

She fired up her laptop and my breaths quickened. It was the moment we all have been waiting for. It was now or never. Go Big or Go Home. Leila looked up at, her eyes asking me if I was ready. I smiled, encouragingly at her. She rubbed her hands together dramatically and entered my admission number.

The screen opened.

_Loading…_

_Loading…_

_Loading…_

And the table appeared on the screen. If somebody said that my future was dependent on a table, I would have laughed it off, anybody would have.

"Oh, my God," Leila whispered, "Anastasia Rose Steele, you passed with an A!" she screamed and I screamed back, not caring about the sleeping beauty taking her sleep. We grabbed each other in a hug and jumped with each other and laughing like crazy. I passed!

"You will be going to the most popular and expensive university in the country!" She shouted again.

"Leila? Where did you get accepted to?" The ribbon-like voice interrupted our celebration and we stopped jumping. Mrs Robinson was leaning on the door frame

To answer her, we had to struggle to stop giggling.

"No, Elena." Leila panted, "Ana passed with an A." She grinned at me.

"Well, congratulations, Anastasia." Her face was plastered with a small smile, "Leila, wouldn't you check your results?"

Leila's smile faded. She looked at me and I nodded, smiling, "We are both going to celebrate today."

She re-entered the admission number and the table appeared again. All of us straightened ourselves.

"I didn't get in," Leila whispered, "I failed."

I was unsure how to respond. I covered my mouth with my hand to hide the disappointment from my face and held her shoulders, rubbing them gently. Mrs Robinson, however, was more vocal with her disappointment.

"Anastasia?" I looked up at her, "Why don't you go downstairs and tell your family the good news?"

Translation: Why don't you just get out and let me pester my stepdaughter and break her down a little more?

I nodded and removed myself out of the room, closing the door behind me.

"I can't believe this." Mrs Robinson said,

_There it goes…_

"I just can't," She said again, a little louder this time, "Even the servant's daughter could get admission."

Tears pooled my eyes immediately as the fact with all the brutality a sentence could muster, was reminded to me, yet again. I held the door frame to support me from breaking down and embraced myself for the next attack,

Elena's pitch was increasing as went on, "Private tutors, cram school, everything I did! What did you do with them, Leila? You couldn't even reach the standards of a poor, filthy girl!"

There was no strength left in me as the harsh words banged my head. Tears cascaded down leaving me vulnerable and I ran outside the house, almost pushing my mother- who had her ears leaning on the door- to the ground.

I slammed my room's door close. I could see my father's grin losing as I had walked across the threshold.

"Don't let her get upset, Carla." I heard my dad whisper.

_Not even my father expected a poor, filthy girl to get the admissions._

Although I was the winner today, I had lost the battle. The battle in which I could prove that I was equal to all. Capable of being touched by these upper-class people. I broke down with loud violent sobs, the tears flowing down with my defeat. I had lost. I was the looser even when I won. I was still just a servant's daughter.

The door slowly creaked open and I looked at my mother with a blurred vision. I turned myself to her, "I am not a servant's daughter!" I yelled at her, "I am Anastasia! Anastasia!"

My mother stood still with pained expressions.

* * *

**A/N again,**

**Hopefully, I will upload a new chapter soon but you all will have to wait from then on because I will be devoting a little more time on my other story 'Keeping you, I let it go'. Go check that out. It is a story of romance, friendship and suspense between our favourite character and I'll be uploading a brand new chapter this week. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**

**Thank you all for the amazing response.**

**Special**** request to those who haven't read my other story, _Keeping you, I let it go. _If you have preferred my writing in this story, I am sure you'll like that too. Its a complete different journey from this one!**

Be with me through that, too.

**_And check out the poll in my profile!!!!_**

**Love,**

**VA Adeles** xx

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The university was huge. As I went on exploring more of the university, it looked more like a five-star hotel than an educational institute. Don't get me started on the students here. They were models with designer clothes and expensive shoes.

After attending my classes- in which I sat grinning ear to ear listening to the professors. I wondered if they thought I was a fool, laughing every minute at the thought that everything that was happening was a hundred per cent real.—I walked around the ground at the back of the university which was open for the summer. I was surprised at the fact that there were two entries and two cafeterias to this school just because we had two seasons.

It was a pleasant sunny day as I took my coffee and sat on one of the white patio-tables that lay on the either sides of the pavements; the rest was all covered with green, shiny well-trimmed grass.

Two girls sat on the other patio-tables beside mine with their coffees and giggled whispering to each other. I tittered at their antics. One was a red-head and the other had coal-black hairs.

"He's coming!" The redhead muttered, excitedly. It was loud enough for me to hear if I paid attention to them.

I looked at the direction she was pointing at.

His hairs were a coppery mess and his eyes were covered in black shades. He wore a white shirt, its sleeves rolled to his elbows, showing off his tight muscles and a pair of blue denim. He looked like a model who had walked straight out of Lakmé fashion week.

"This time, I'll make him him notice me." The redhead muttered, waving her hairs back,

"And how will you do that?" She asked, her tone suggested that she was smug.

"Watch me." The girl replied narrowing her eyes and getting up on her feet.

She took her coffee and walked over to the walking model, her waist swaying dramatically from side to side. What she did next had to have me rolling on the floor if I wasn't in the middle of a university.

Her shoulders collided with him, spilling her coffee on his shirt. He jerked back, "I am so sorry!" She feigned panicky, wiping his shirt with her hands, frantically.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what I had in mind," She laughed, "By the way," She muttered, stretching out her free hand, "I am Esra. Its a _pleasure _to meet you."

The guy looked at her, irritated, I thought, wiping his own shirt with his hands. Ignoring her outstretched handshake, he moved his hand and patted her shoulders, "It's okay." He said sternly and walked over to a table where few students sat joking with each other.

I laughed. Mission failed.

The girl, Esra, made a face and jolted back to her seat.

"What are you laughing at? I am Hannah, by the way." A girl came, smiling at me, dressed in a yellow sleeveless top with a broome leather jacket and rugged jeans. She took a seat beside me with her coffee.

I chuckled, "What kind of school is this?"

"What happened?"

"I have no idea who he is," I whispered, bobbing my chin towards him, "but that girl spilled her coffee on him, just to get his attention and then introduced herself," I giggled again,

"Did she get what she wanted?" Hannah asked, laughing as if she already knew the answer,

I shook my head, "Nope. He ignored her completely" I snorted,

"He's Christian Grey. The playboy of this university." She muttered, her tone changing the story telling mode,

"He doesn't hang around with a nobody that includes almost every student in this university," she arched her eyebrow at me, smugly, "He prefers models, actresses, the rich women. His dad practically _started _the nightlife in this city. He's called the 'prince of nightlife" she rolled her eyes,

"That's very pompous." I commented, my eyes locked on him. Suddenly, my mind raced back to the magazines, Leila had. Was he the same?

"He switches girls like shirts." She went on, "He _collects _woman, I mean. Look the one next to him," I followed the direction of her eyes.

The woman was a blonde, her hairs falling down to her shoulders, her features were sharp, her skin fair with her perfect lips. She wore a bustiere red top, her breast pushed up, revealing a contoured cleavage. She carried herself well. A super-model?

"She's Gia. Gia Matteo. Her family owns a business in New York. The other one is Elliot," she pointed at a guy that sat beside Gia, laughing. He seemed tall, his body was more muscular than Grey, he was wide-shouldered, with curly blonde hair and blue eyes.He had an interesting dressing style though. A bright yellow t-shirt and a white-black check coat.

"Best friends with Christian Grey. His father is a member of parliament and owns a couple of buildings. Don't get fooled by their laughter," her voice had a sense of clear warning, "You will only get pain," my head jerked at the turn her tone took. _Was she a part of the group? _

She recovered her stance and straightened, "Er... in short, they are the first _tier _of this university. You need to have a class to even wander around them. They won't even talk to you before looking at your family tree," She chuckled, bitterly, by the time. Christian Grey seemed to have enough of his friends and got up, waving them a goodbye.

"You seem to be too well-informed about them," I muttered, narrowing my eyes,

She shrugged.

My phone was buzzing continuously in my brown bag. I sighed. Opening my bag, I fished out my phone but stopped. Everybody had smartphones in their hands around me. Even Hannah had a decent smartphone in which she was typing furiously. I disconnected the call. My phone was old and not a smartphone.

_Class difference begins again..._

"I guess, I'll see you around." I smiled at Hannah and she nodded, smiling back.

I got up, walking on the way that showed out of the university. My phone buzzed away. I rolled my eyes and picked it up when I was sure that nobody was looking at me,

"Hello?"

"Ana! Why don't you pick up your phone?" Mom shouted from the other end,

"I just got out of class, mum." I replied, annoyed,

"Don't be late or else your father will eat me alive." She warned,

"I am on my way back. Bye." I hung up.

It happened too fast. I was just keeping my phone back in the bag when a car swished by, hitting my hand and the phone fell off shattering into pieces.

"Ouch!" I yelped in pain,

The car screeched to a halt and he got out of it. Of course, it had to he _The _Christian Grey who had hit me out of everybody in the world.

I bent down to pick the remains of my phone,

"I am so, so sorry!" He apologised, "I don't know what happened. I should have been careful. Are you okay?" He scooted to my level, picking up the battery.

I stood up and he did, too. The insides of my stomach twisted. He _was _breath-takingly beautiful. He had to have the most intense gray eyes I had ever seen. Leila had been right. If only he was not a spoiled brat. "I am fine, thank you." I replied back,

He handed me the battery, "Your phone broke. I am really sorry." he apologised again,

"This was just a temporary phone," I lied, _what would he think of he saw me with _that _phone?, _"Mine is getting repaired."

I took a step forward but he grabbed my injured hand and inspected it, "I am sure you hand must be paining. Please let me take you to the hospital and let it get checked." He _looked _like he was concerned,

I withdrew my hand away, "I am really fine."

"At least, let me pay you for that phone. It _was _my mistake..." He smiled,

Okay, that was enough, "Why would you _pay _me? Who do you think you are?" I shouted,

His lips turned down and his smile faded, "I was just trying to make up to you. You know? Since you broke your phone and hurt your hand."

"If you want to make up to me, don't ever drive again." I left him gaping at me. Of course, he was used to being treated like a prince. Clutching my stinging hand, I jolted away.

* * *

"It can't be fixed, dad." My brother was fiddling with the broken phone, sitting on the couch in the living room while I stood in front of them as if on trial.

"How did this happen, Ana?" Dad asked,

"I smashed my arm on the door and it slipped. I am sorry." I lied, my tone was convincing. I sighed in relief.

"You both keep fussing over that materialistic trash," mom complained from the kitchen, "Ana, the mark is bruising. Apply some ice, sweetheart."

She was right, the red mark was blue by now and even the slightest touch made me wince, "Thanks, mum but I'm alright."

I sat beside Dad and mom came to sit beside me pressing the ice pack on my hand.

"Here," Dad muttered, handing over his phone to me, "Take this till I get your phons repaired so at least we can keep in contact with you."

I hesitated. The phone was in a worse condition than mine. The numbers on its keypads had faded away long ago.

"Dad, I can't take it. It's too old." I whispered, my voice low with the fear of upsetting him.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I had upset him. His voice was a notch higher, "Isn't this a phone? You will use it just the way I do!"

Ethan laughed, "Dad, your daughter is going to a socialite school!" his tone was loaded with sarcasm and his voice was mocking. I gritted my teeth, "How can she use a phone that is not a smartphone and doesn't even have a camera. She'll be embarrassed in front of her rich friends!"

I glared at mom, my eyes complaining. She was glaring at him.

"She isn't filming a movie! Why would she need a camera? A mobile is used to make calls, Anastasia. Do you understand?" I nodded, my eyes on the carpet. He scowled at me and slammed his phone on the table and walked away.

"You are so jealous of me, aren't you, Ethan? Because you are still sitting there when I am reaching heights with my hard work? Because you are worth nothing?" I hissed at him and his smugness was stomped, "Jealous piece of shit." I huffed and stormed off into my room and slamming the door behind me.

My mother walked in after a few minutes, "What are you doing?"

I turned to look at her, "Studying, mum."

"Don't be angry, honey. Your dad just worries about you so he needs to call now and then."

I nodded, returning back to my books.

"Listen, if you feel embarrassed in front of your friends, just don't take your phone out."

I looked at her. I was ashamed of myself because I did feel embarrassed. My parents worked hard for me and I am chicken enough to be ashamed of what I am? Of what we are? "I am not embarrassed, mum. Don't worry, please." I smiled.

She smiled back, her eyes filled with pride and she scooted beside the bed, "Listen," She whispered, her voice mischievous as she switched to her gossiping mode, "Mrs Lincoln is still seething,"she giggled.

"Why?" One corner of my lips turned up in a reluctant smile when I saw how eager she was to tell me about this. It was cute how childish she was. I returned back to my studies almost tuning myself out of whatever she was going to gossip about.

"She keeps feigning how much she cares about Leila. She keeps pestering her because she couldn't get rid of her." She derided,

"She asked about you half-heartedly. She envies you but I am so proud!" She clapped her hands, her tone victorious. I giggled. "I keep showing off," Her chest bloated with pride, "I keep telling her how much you study literally covered in books and-

"Mom, now, please let me study, will you? You seem like you enjoyed your day but I really need to complete this assignment." I interrupted before she could start another topic.

She made face, "Fine. You study well. Goodnight, Annie."

"Night, mommy. Love you."

She grinned, "Love you, too, sweetie." She kissed my head and very quietly, with extra precautions, she closed the door behind her.

That was the first night I dreamed of someone from a magazine. Christian Grey.


End file.
